


a welcome, a wanting

by fabrega



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Episode: s04e01 Welcome to Korea, Feelings, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Previous "Trapper" John McIntyre/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: "Hard to believe this whole thing started with you landing in Korea."
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 17
Kudos: 94





	a welcome, a wanting

**Author's Note:**

> For the wonderful folks in the M*A*S*H Zoom, who have been a consistent bright spot in this absolute garbage fire of a year. ♥ 
> 
> Thanks so much to Meredith, Leigh, and smarsh for reading over this & for their help and reassurances! (And thanks especially to smarsh especially for putting up with me sending her fifteen hundred gifsets of hands when she doesn't even go here.)

After Major Burns is done yelling, BJ lets Hawkeye take him home--or, at least, the place he's going to be staying for the next little bit of the war. They're less drunk than they had been but still not sober, and as they approach the aptly named Swamp, BJ feels unsteady, in a couple of different ways.

"Wow, it's..." BJ pauses, searching in vain for an adjective that isn't an insult. "...terrible."

"It is, thank you for noticing!" Hawkeye says cheerfully. "On special occasions it's merely awful, but those are few and far between."

BJ looks around, trying to imagine what kind of special occasion could brighten this place at all--the end of the war, maybe, or some kind of fire. "I'll take your word for it," he says aloud, and Hawkeye laughs.

"Looks like this bunk is mine?" BJ gestures with his bag at the vacant bed across the room.

Hawkeye laughs again, a little bitterly this time, and moves to the still in the middle of the room. They're drunk, but Hawkeye pours himself a full martini. "Yeah, it's yours now. Congratulations."

"Doesn't feel like a great prize."

"Maybe you can get your money back."

BJ carries his bag over to his new bunk. He sits, heavily, and doesn't start unpacking. "I'm sorry, again, about your friend. He sounds like a good man."

He didn't actually sound like a good man. BJ knows basically nothing about Trapper, just the effusive praise that Hawkeye's had for him. Truth be told, BJ is more than a little jealous of Trapper--he's home, with his family, and BJ is stuck here in his place.

"The finest kind," Hawkeye begins, raising his glass. "He was a good man, a good surgeon, a snappy dresser, a great dancer--"

Ugh, BJ should've seen this coming. Of course he'd take it as an invitation to wax rhapsodic about the guy. Trapper probably walked on water, too. The jealousy BJ's been feeling in the pit of his stomach about Trapper turns a little different shade of green, and he starts to rifle through his bag as a distraction. If he can find it, there's a family photo in there that he wants to put up first thing.

"--and he knew _the best_ places in camp to get and give a quick handjob," Hawkeye finishes.

BJ looks up sharply. He can't have heard that right, can he? He expects Hawkeye to correct himself, or at least to clarify, but no, Hawkeye's just sitting there on his bunk, sipping his martini, a carefully measured look on his face. BJ definitely doesn't know what to do with that.

He'd told Hawkeye he was married, right? He _is_ married. If this is a joke, it's not a very funny one, and cuts a lot closer to the bone than BJ is comfortable with. How could Hawkeye possibly have known?

Hawkeye's still looking at him. BJ realizes he hasn't said anything--neither of them has said anything in probably too long. He raises a careful eyebrow, trying for a look that could plausibly be read as confused or disapproving or, although he both wouldn't and shouldn't, a little bit interested.

He is really, really too drunk for this.

Hawkeye laughs mirthlessly and downs what's left of his martini. "Don't give me that look," he says, as though BJ knows what look he was giving. "What are they gonna do, send me home? Oh, no, anything but that. Besides, if it was that easy to get out of the Army, Klinger would be kissing each and every one of us, right on the mouth." It's worse than that and they both know it, but neither one of them says anything. Hawkeye gets up from his bunk and moves back to the still, starting to refill his glass.

"You sure you need that? You're already pretty drunk," BJ says, in a weak attempt to give Hawkeye an out.

"So are you." Hawkeye shrugs easily, tossing BJ a coy glance. "I also swing both ways, but who's counting?"

BJ smiles uneasily. He's not counting, and he's certainly in no position to judge. He doesn't know what Hawkeye wants from him--maybe nothing. Maybe this, whatever _this_ is, is just how Hawkeye acts with everybody. Maybe this is meant to be his way of letting BJ know what to expect from him as a bunkmate, so BJ won't panic if he, say, walks in and finds Hawkeye with an unexpected guest.

He wonders suddenly what Trapper was like, if he and BJ have anything in common.

He's been absentmindedly digging through his bag through all of this, and his hand finally closes on the family photo he'd been looking for. He pulls it out of the bag and sets it on the bedside table. There--it feels more like home already.

Hawkeye, who's back on his bunk, takes another long gulp of his martini and looks away.

* * *

BJ settles into the war. He learns to function on three hours of sleep. His alcohol tolerance goes way, way up. He's always been a good surgeon, but he gets better at the kind of meatball surgery that's required of him here. He doesn't become numb to the carnage, but god, does he want to some days.

He writes letters home.

He makes friends, Hawkeye first and foremost among them--and oh, what a friend Hawkeye is. BJ doesn't know what to do with him, or what he'd do without him. If BJ is feeling charitable, he'd call Hawkeye tactile and affectionate; if he's feeling uncharitable, Hawkeye can be downright handsy. And BJ lets himself lean into it, more when he's tired or drunk. It's comforting, comfortable. When everything else around him feels like a swirling storm that BJ can't weather, Hawkeye feels like shelter. Even when they disagree, even when they fight, Hawkeye is where BJ wants to be.

He hopes it feels that way to Hawkeye, too. Hawkeye deserves a little peace. It would be nice, if they could be that to each other.

It would be nice, BJ sometimes thinks as he stares up at the ceiling of the Swamp and tries to sleep, if maybe they could be more than that to each other. He's seen the way that Hawkeye smiles at him, and knows the way that he smiles back. He's not blind. He's not _dead_. It's become incredibly obvious, as time goes on, that the conversation they'd had that first night in the Swamp was something like a proposition--an invitation. BJ knows that now, and he thinks about it often. But he's made promises, a lot of them to himself, and he's going to do his best not to break them.

Time passes. The war goes on. BJ breaks some of his promises; the world shifts, just a little bit. And, despite his better judgement, he keeps thinking about Hawkeye.

* * *

They've got the Swamp to themselves when BJ finally brings it up. He's meant to bring it up for a while now, but hasn't been sure how to. "Back when I first got here, you said something about how Trapper knew all the best places to, uh--"

Hawkeye sits up from his bunk, a sly smile of realization blossoming across his face as BJ stumbles over the words. Usually BJ is not on the receiving end of that smile. It's unsettling.

BJ huffs in annoyance. "C'mon, Hawk, are you gonna really make me say it?"

"No, no, of course not," Hawkeye says, as though it's obvious that would be the case. "You want to know where they are? These best places? For--" his voice drops to a stage whisper, "-- _handjobs_?"

"Not sure why I'd be asking otherwise."

"You know, you haven't actually asked yet." Hawkeye sits forward, making very direct eye contact.

BJ refuses to squirm. He meets Hawkeye's gaze. "Would you tell me?"

"Would you tell _me_ why you want to know?"

"Does it matter why?"

"That depends." Hawkeye pauses, a beat too long. "If I try to sneak away with a nurse to one of these secret spots and find you there already, with some other nurse? We start having to keep a schedule and reserve time? That doesn't seem like such a great deal for me."

"Yeah, that's, uh," BJ forces a chuckle, "That's not really what I had in mind." A beat. "Not really _who_ I had in mind."

Hawkeye, who is already leaning forward, leans even farther, propping his elbows on his knees so he can take his chin in his hands and grin at BJ with coquettish glee. "And who _did_ you have in mind?"

Oh, BJ realizes, each of them is waiting for the other one to say it. "I wrote to my wife."

Hawkeye sits back suddenly, his face closing up, the grin gone. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, Beej, but I think Korea is a little far to travel for a handjob."

BJ shakes his head and sighs. "I know it is, that's not what I--"

"You wrote to your wife about this, of course. Your wife, who needs to know all about me and Trapper and the handjobs. The obvious choice." Hawkeye rolls his eyes. He's prickly, the kind of prickly he gets when he's uncomfortable; BJ can tell he's attempting to figure out where this is going. "Well, what did you tell her?"

BJ pauses, trying to think of how best to explain it.

In the absence of an immediate answer, Hawkeye continues being obtuse. " _Dearest wife_ ," he intones, reading from an imaginary letter, " _You are, as you know, the woman I'm married to--but that's not why I'm writing to you._ " He flashes BJ a syrupy smile, which BJ mirthlessly returns. " _You remember my friend Hawkeye, the one from every other letter I've written?_ "

Well, that is uncalled-for and also true. BJ tries not to frown, and almost certainly doesn't succeed.

" _You probably don't remember_ ** _his_** _friend Trapper. That's probably because I've never mentioned him--I get really touchy when Hawkeye brings him up, so why would I tell you about him?_ " BJ scoffs, unconvincingly, and Hawkeye looks at him coolly. "What, you didn't think I'd notice?"

" _I_ hadn't noticed," BJ says, which is true. Almost true. Mostly true. Okay, fine, it's not true, but he really had hoped Hawkeye couldn't tell.

" _Anyway, Peg,_ " Hawkeye says, slipping back into his letter-reading voice, " _You'll never_ ** _believe_** _what those two crazy kids used to get up to!_ " He stares directly at BJ, daring him to respond.

BJ sighs. If Hawkeye had let him, BJ would have explained the letter he'd written, how he'd mentioned his friend from medical school, the doctor that Peg knows he'd slept with on and off. He'd mentioned Hawkeye in this letter too--like Hawkeye had said, not the first time, and almost certainly not the last. And he was _going_ to explain how Peg, brilliant, beautiful, wonderful Peg, she had made the connection he was hoping she would make, and how in her letter back, she'd written that good friendships were important, that they sustained people, and that she was glad that he had found a friend like that again.

He knows what she means, and he loves her for it.

"It wasn't about you. The letter, it wasn't about you, and it certainly wasn't about Trapper. It was about me." This is not _strictly_ true, but it's a lot closer to the truth than Hawkeye had gotten.

"Well, why not?"

"What do you mean, why not?"

"Why wasn't your letter about me?"

BJ pinches the bridge of his nose. "Not everything is about you."

"Well, sure, but given the context and the subject matter, this thing seems like it should probably be about me."

"Look, I asked you a question, would you please just answer it?"

Hawkeye makes a disbelieving face at him. "You still haven't told me why you want to know! Who do you have in mind, BJ?"

"You already know!" There it is, what he's been dancing around, the admission BJ knows he needs to make. His face goes hot and his fists clench.

"Oh, I do, do I? Please, enlighten me--"

This is when BJ runs out of patience. They're trying to reach an outcome that, as far as BJ can tell, _they both want_. There's no reason this should be this difficult! He stands abruptly and stalks over to Hawkeye's bunk, bodily hauling him up by his collar. Hawkeye yelps but doesn't struggle. Their faces are very close together.

It would be a very bad idea, but it's all BJ can do not to kiss him.

BJ's voice is quiet when he speaks. "You _know_ who. Show me. Please."

"Alright, alright! You could've just asked. I'll give you the scenic tour." Hawkeye takes the lead and they head out of the Swamp, BJ's fist still balled in Hawkeye's shirt collar.

On the way out, they pass Frank, who looks at them both and clocks that something is up but completely misunderstands what. "Are you guys fighting again?" he asks, the glee in his voice unmistakable.

"Yes," Hawkeye says.

"No," BJ says, at exactly the same time.

Frank is practically bouncing up and down as he looks between them. "Oh! And it's not even my birthday!"

"We're not fighting, Frank. There's just...there's something I need Hawkeye's help with," BJ says. He is not going to specify what. He is also going to pointedly ignore the wave of delight that crosses Hawkeye's face.

"So you're dragging him there?" Frank squints at them suspiciously, his mouth puckering up in that particularly unflattering way.

Hawkeye shrugs at him, grinning. "He could've just asked."

"Well," Frank continues, "Is it a medical thing? A patient? Anything I can help with?"

"No, I think we have the problem well in hand." BJ realizes what he's just said as the words come out of his mouth. He takes a deep breath, looking skyward for patience.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Hawkeye just barely not cracking up.

"Well, if you're sure..." Frank says, but Hawkeye is already impatiently pulling BJ across the compound by the collar of his own shirt.

They wind up in a forgotten closet somewhere, the door pulled shut behind them. The sounds of the camp are faint but still audible, and when Hawkeye speaks, his voice is low.

"You're sure about this? You're okay with this?" Hawkeye asks. "This is--you want this? This? With me?" He gestures vaguely around them: at the closet, at BJ, at the whole situation.

BJ looks him in the eye. He's more than okay with it. He's thought about it a lot.

He hasn't been able to _stop_ thinking about it, actually.

Hawkeye doesn't wait for BJ to answer, though. He doesn't really even give him space to get a word in edgewise. "Really, I should've asked you that last part before I followed you in here. But I know of at least three interested nurses I could go grab, or we could just go back to the Swamp and forget this ever happened--"

"Hawk." BJ puts a hand on his arm, squeezes just a little. "I'm sure. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have... I'm sure."

"Okay! Okay." The smile Hawkeye gives him is warm, satisfied, maybe even a little smitten, and it lights something tender inside of BJ that surprises him.

He'll have to work through that surprise later, though, because almost immediately Hawkeye is back to teasing. "Well then, let's see if we can't get this _well in hand_ ," he repeats, waggling his eyebrows and grinning.

"Hey, I didn't hear you offering any helpful excuses!" BJ starts to say, but he shuts up immediately when Hawkeye goes for his belt. Then, Hawkeye's hand wraps around his dick and all thoughts immediately leave his head.

Hawkeye's fingers are just like the rest of him: a little wicked and a lot clever. BJ gasps, and Hawkeye laughs and leans in close, his smile pressed against BJ's shoulder. BJ thrusts forward into Hawkeye's hand almost involuntarily, and Hawkeye matches his rhythm, stroking him through to a quiet, shuddering climax.

When BJ gets his breath back, he says, slightly abashed, "Are you--should I--do you want me to--"

Hawkeye waves him off with a laugh. "No, no, don't worry about me. I'm--" He pauses. Or does he hesitate? "You don't have to."

"Yeah, but I _want_ to."

Something complicated happens on Hawkeye's face, a rush of one emotion after another. "I'm fine. Really. You're the one who wanted the scenic tour, I'm just the tour guide." His expression finally settles on something like nonchalant, but BJ is not fooled.

"Next time, then." BJ smiles at him, hoping to put him at ease.

It must work, because Hawkeye's eyes crinkle up and his lips twist into a smile. "Yeah," he echoes, "Next time."

* * *

The next time is great, if BJ does say so himself. Hawkeye sure doesn't complain.

The time after that is also good, and so is the time after that. Then it becomes a habit, sneaking away to a back room or supply closet and getting each other off. Hawkeye, who had already been astonishingly good at knowing what BJ needs and just how to give it to him, somehow gets even better with practice. And BJ gets what he wants, too. Hawkeye's quiet, when he comes, quieter even than necessity dictates. He mouths against BJ's neck, letting out shaky breaths as he clings tightly to BJ, and he lets out a long sigh as he finishes. BJ loves the way he goes boneless and still afterwards, such a contrast to his usual frenetic energy.

BJ is glad that he can do that for Hawkeye. He deserves it.

A couple of times, Hawkeye sinks to his knees in front of BJ and gets him off that way, putting his smart mouth to another good use. (The first time he does, he looks up at BJ as he unbuckles BJ's belt and grins and says, "Well, whaddaya know, I'm giving a--" and BJ, who has heard every possible unfunny variation of that joke, yanks his belt out of Hawkeye's hands and refuses to let Hawkeye back near his dick until he promises not to make that joke again.)

It's _good_ , one good thing in this entire damn war, and BJ is going to hold onto it as tightly as he can.

BJ's not sure why he expects everything else to change, now that this is happening. He's not sure why he expects _anything_ else to change--as far as anyone else can tell, nothing _has_ changed. Hawkeye still sneaks away with nurses. BJ still eagerly awaits every letter from home. There's still a war.

Things do change, though. Frank moves out. Charles moves in. BJ grows a mustache. Hawkeye and BJ's friendship--and not just their friendship, but their _flirting_ , because BJ is finally willing to call it what it is--gets more serious. It's more serious, in that it's less joking; it's more serious, in that it's closer, more comfortable. Hawkeye is even handsier, if that's possible, and BJ lets himself lean into it more. Either nobody notices or nobody cares, and BJ finds that it doesn't matter to him which it is.

Of course, they fight more too. They're living in each other's pockets, so of course their little quirks will get on each other's nerves. They're close, so they each know exactly what annoys the other. Of course they disagree, they pick, they bicker. Sometimes they hit below the belt, but that only feels appropriate, given everything else.

If BJ didn't know what he'd do with or without Hawkeye before, he definitely doesn't now.

* * *

Hawkeye is obviously in a mood when he stalks into the Swamp, fresh off a shift in post-op. Charles is engrossed in a book, and BJ, mid-game of solitaire and also mid-martini, knows better than to ask what's wrong. Hawkeye flops down on his bunk and throws an arm over his eyes. "Bennet's not doing any better," he says to the room.

"That's the kid you pulled all that shrapnel out of?" BJ asks, glancing up from his cards.

Hawkeye nods. "A whole bellyful. Pretty sure I got it all, but his fever won't come down."

"If you want to open him back up--"

"No, no, I've got him on close supervision for the next twelve hours. After that, we'll see." He sits up, glancing at Charles before taking a seat next to BJ at the card table. He leans in and picks up one of BJ's cards, seemingly at random, and places it somewhere else without looking. "In the meantime, how 'bout it, Beej? Can I interest you in a visit to one of Trapper's old haunts?"

That's the shorthand Hawkeye's been using for their trysts, _visiting one of Trapper's places_. It rankles BJ, and Hawkeye obviously knows that it does but keeps doing it anyway. BJ knows he's supposed to answer something like _I'd love the scenic tour_ , but he is irked. Hawkeye has irked him. Hawkeye is good at that.

BJ turns his gaze back to his cards, ignoring Hawkeye's inviting look. He finds the cards Hawkeye had moved: a king on top of a jack. He sets his jaw and moves them back. "You know, I don't get it. We've been there enough times ourselves--why's it still Trapper's place?"

"No particular reason, I'm sure." Hawkeye gives him a peevish grin.

"Oh, you always have your reasons," BJ says, his words light, his expression grim.

"Surely a smart guy like you can figure out what those reasons might be."

BJ _can_ think of a reason. It's the reason he's irked.

From across the Swamp, Charles cuts in with a huff. "Would you two buffoons _please_ take your tawdry bickering elsewhere? _Some_ of us are trying to enjoy a moment's peace and quiet."

"It's a war, Charles," BJ snaps at him, "Not sure peace and quiet is on the menu."

Hawkeye hauls BJ up out of his seat before he can say any more. "C'mon, Beej, let's leave the mean man alone with his thoughts." He ignores the frown BJ gives him (and the scoff from Charles) and drags BJ out of the Swamp and into one of the nearby supply tents. They'd played poker here last night. The chairs are mostly put away, but the table is still sitting conspicuously in the middle of the floor.

BJ's not sure what they're doing here--he hadn't agreed to Hawkeye's proposition, after all--but Hawkeye hops up to sit on the table and motions for BJ to sit next to him, patting the table. BJ begrudgingly sits.

Once they're situated, Hawkeye says, "Okay, _now_ we can have this fight."

BJ laughs despite himself.

"Where were we? Oh, that's right, you were going to throw a tantrum about my choice of verbiage."

"It wasn't--" _a_ _tantrum_ , BJ wants to say, but Hawkeye's right, it probably would've been. He sighs. "I'm just saying, at some point, numerically, they're not Trapper's places anymore. They're ours."

Hawkeye regards him for several excruciatingly long seconds. "Tell me," he says, "How do you think that would go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I come up to you in the mess tent or the Swamp, sit down beside you," Hawkeye leans over, puts a hand on BJ's arm, "And I say, _hey, Beej, can I interest you in a scenic tour of one of our special secret places?_ "

BJ frowns. "That's not what I--"

"Oh, that's not what you meant? What _did_ you mean?" Hawkeye leans in closer, pretending to be incredibly interested in BJ's answer despite them both knowing that BJ doesn't really have one. His hand is still on BJ's arm, and the other hand joins it as he leans in.

"I don't know." BJ shakes his head. He wants to be mad, but he can't be mad.

"I'm not doing it on purpose, you know." Hawkeye pauses, looking thoughtful. "Well, mostly not on purpose. You're not the only one who's tired of hearing about somebody who's not here."

That stops BJ in his tracks. "You know I can't apologize for that."

"And I can't either, so here we are." Hawkeye sighs. He's still got his hands on BJ's arm.

"Here we are." BJ scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm not sure I like fights we both lose."

"Well, you should've thought of that before you picked one." Hawkeye smiles at him, but it's a tired smile. He pulls his hands back into his lap, but lets his head lean over onto BJ's shoulder. BJ leans back, and they sit there like that, quiet, for a minute or two.

Eventually Hawkeye sits up, regarding BJ seriously. "Do you know what he left for me? Trapper, I mean."

Despite himself, BJ bristles at the question. Where the hell is this coming from? "I know it wasn't a note," he says, unable to keep the sourness from his voice.

Hawkeye gives him a humorless smile. "A ha ha," he says, pronouncing the words instead of actually laughing. "I see you've been paying attention. Very good. No, it wasn't a note. I don't think I ever showed you. Hang on, you'll like this."

"Oh, you carry it with you, how wonderful--" BJ starts to say, and then Hawkeye kisses him on the cheek.

BJ suppresses the urge to raise a hand to his face and touch the skin that Hawkeye had kissed. That's...that's new. For as affectionate as they've been, for as _intimate_ as they've been, kissing is a line that they've somehow never crossed, not when it's just the two of them alone. The closest they'd ever come was before that first time, in the Swamp. BJ hadn't then; Hawkeye had never made a move to, and BJ was happy to follow his lead.

Whatever this is, it's new. Part of BJ knows how he wants to interpret it, one more reminder that there are things that Hawk shared with Trapper that he'll never share with BJ, but after the conversation they'd just had, he's going to wait a little longer before making any judgments.

Besides, Hawkeye had said that he'd like it.

"How did he leave that for you?" BJ asks, because he's not sure what else he's supposed to be asking at the moment.

"He left it with Radar for safe-keeping."

BJ grins at the thought. "I imagine Radar wasn't too happy about that."

"Right?! I relayed it to you exactly as I received it, and you can tell, his heart wasn't in it. Trap could've at least stuck around to give it to me in person! The nerve of him!" He heaves a dramatic sigh. Both of them know he's joking, but only mostly.

BJ catches his eye, still trying to gauge exactly what's going on. The look Hawkeye gives him feels like a dare. So he asks, heart pounding: "What would that have been like?"

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow at BJ, who smiles back in what he hopes is a helpful way. Then he takes BJ's face in both his hands and kisses him, full on the lips.

... _oh_.

It's not that he hadn't expected a kiss. He'd expected a kiss, but this is a _kiss_. Hawkeye's head tilts and his eyes slide shut and his lips part slightly against BJ's. This isn't a demonstration or reminiscing about somebody else. BJ can tell: this is for _him_. He lets his own eyes fall closed and kisses Hawkeye back. It feels almost desperate, and maybe it is. Maybe he's wanted this for longer than he'd realized. Maybe he's wanted this _more_ than he'd realized. Maybe he's a little worried that he won't get another chance.

When Hawkeye pulls away--later than BJ had hoped for, sooner than he had wanted--he looks at BJ for a long, vulnerable moment. Finally, _finally_ , BJ gets a chance to jump in before Hawkeye's insecurities do. "You were right."

"Almost always," Hawkeye says, automatically. "Right about what, exactly?"

"You said I'd like it. You were right."

Hawkeye starts laughing. He smacks BJ in the arm in faux-annoyance before breaking out into maybe the widest grin BJ has ever seen. "That was gonna be my line! I was gonna say, _see, I told you you'd like it!_ "

"I'm going to kiss you again," BJ says, surprising them both. "If that's okay."

Hawkeye nods, obviously delighted.

"Just so we're clear--" and BJ is yelling at himself to _stop_ , Hawkeye has already said _yes_ , but he _keeps talking_ , "Just so we're clear: no Trapper, no Peg. Just you and me."

Hawkeye's smile doesn't get wider, because that is probably physically impossible, but it feels like it grows fonder, even more smitten. "You and me," he repeats.

BJ kisses him again. This time, Hawkeye puts his arms around BJ's shoulders, a hand cradling the back of his head, holding him close. BJ, for his part, kisses less desperately, more deliberately. He lets his mouth open into the kiss, and he makes a guttural and frankly embarrassing noise when Hawkeye's tongue slips between his parted lips.

He could do this forever. He knows that they can't, but maybe he could.

Afterwards, Hawkeye makes a face at him. "What?" BJ asks, defensive, trying not to think of too many worst-case scenarios.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about how we could've started doing that _before_ you grew that cheesy mustache," Hawkeye says.

This time, BJ smacks Hawkeye in faux-outrage, before leaning into him. "Hard to believe this whole thing started with an argument," he says.

"Hard to believe this whole thing started with you landing in Korea."

BJ chuckles. "Hard to believe it took us this long."

"Oh, no, that one I believe. I've met me. I'm not good at--" Hawkeye waves his hands at what BJ can only assume is something like 'emotional vulnerability,' or 'directly addressing things instead of using jokes or elaborate metaphors,' or, possibly, 'the entire concept of feelings.'

Then again, it's not like BJ is any better at any of that. Rather than let Hawkeye continue to search for the words, he says, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

There's a thoughtful pause, and for a second, BJ thinks that maybe there's something else they need to talk about, that maybe they're going to talk about it, but then Hawkeye gives him a crooked smile and says, "Hey, instead of all this boring talking, wanna make out?" The question is punctuated with some judicious nudging and further waggling of eyebrows. How can BJ say no to that?

He lets Hawkeye do what he's always said he was going to. He lets Hawkeye take him home.


End file.
